


You're The One Who Said Pigeon

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Angels and Demons Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Assassin Dean Winchester, Assassins & Hitmen, Fluff, Gangs, Implied Smut, M/M, Mafia Leader Sam, Mobs, Pigeons, Secret Messages, Secret Relationship, Spies & Secret Agents, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 17:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13594875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Being a Mafia Leader isn't an easy life. There are threats, either direct or indirect. For example, the former is talking to Michael in a public setting, and trying to assert power and warn the other to back off or else. The latter, is being assaulted right as you're about to get into your car, by a well-aimed, so-fast-it's-almost-a-blur... pigeon?





	You're The One Who Said Pigeon

**Author's Note:**

> References to previous work, You And I Alone.. don't have to read it, but you're welcome to if you want, cuz it should all lead up to something bigger eventually.. ;) Also, vague (or not so vague?) allusions to the show, of course ;)  
> Aaaaand of course, all the thanks to KaenNoMai, without whom I wouldn't have even thought of this, if it weren't for her infectious energy and cheer, and the damn ideas they kept spreading! ;D

His coffee had gone lukewarm, Sam noted with distaste, though he continued to sip at it anyway. His eyes tracked Michael’s movements, the man, for his part, as still as a statue, and expression just like one.

“You’re quite young.” Michael stated, blandly. He didn’t even bother to meet Sam’s eyes, delicately cutting into his chicken into bite sized pieces, but he didn’t put a single one in his mouth. Probably had something to do with the fact that his poison tester wasn’t with him at the moment. Sam briefly wondered the person was. Michael was probably in between people, though. “And everything you’ve accomplished or managed to maintain,” Michael waved vaguely. “Pure luck.” Apparently satisfied that his chicken couldn’t be put together no matter how hard anyone could try now, Michael leaned back, setting his fork diagonally across the plate with the knife in between the prongs, forming an upside down V. This was probably going to be the cherry on top for the poor chef. 

“You should step down, now, Wesson. Before something… untoward happens.” Michael’s eyes raked over Sam’s form. “Like I said, you’re quite young. You’ve got a long life ahead of you. Better to give it all up now, find a woman, make lots of babies, settle down.” Michael tried to appease Sam, and it took everything within him to not snort at that and maintain a smooth composure. “Get out of the life while you can.” And now, Michael started to stand up. “I’d hate to see your potential have to go to waste. You could accomplish quite the bit… elsewhere.” He tugged at his coat, straightening it, and just as he turned to leave, Sam set down his coffee cup, leaning back against his chair leisurely. 

“Wise words, from a wise man.” Sam finally spoke, immediately getting Michael’s attention. Michael paused, not turning around completely to face Sam again, but not looking away either. “Wiser still would be to follow them yourself. After all, you’re married. You should spend your every minute with family. Time tends to fly by very quickly, and before you know it, everyone’s all grown up.” Sam smirked.

Michael hesitated, inhaling, but then his face darkened, and he clenched his teeth as he tugged once more on his coat, harder this time, before walking away, his guards hurrying to surround him in their protective circle. 

The door of the restaurant slammed behind Michael, and all the waiters visibly flinched, the patrons otherwise still frozen and casting cautious looks towards Sam.

Sighing, Sam took another a sip of his coffee, and this time, he didn’t even stop his nose from curling up in disgust. Setting it down harshly so that it spilt over the edge and onto its platter, Sam stood, nodding to his guards. He walked out of the restaurant, but not before he paused by the brave - most likely also the one who drew the short stick amongst her fellow coworkers - waitress who had served them, handing her a hundred. A small, genuine smile peeked through at her awed look, and then Sam let himself be swept away by his bodyguards, the men swiftly and efficiently leading him out and walking him over to his car, the valet shaking as he tried not to meet Sam’s eyes. 

“Tip him.” Sam instructed one of his men, Jake, as he opened the door. The black man nodded to Sam, and just as Sam was about to get in, something smacked into the car’s window. 

Everything went crazy. 

Azazel popped up from slightly behind Sam, immediately pushing Sam back into the readily waiting tighter circle of his guards as he jumped right to the front of whatever had tried to assault Sam. A flurry of activity threatened to give Sam a headache as he watched his men draw out their guns, even as every cell in his body vibrated with the energy, ready to jump into action the moment he needed to. After all, he could never be careful, this could always be a ploy, the moment Azazel or someone else… 

Azazel held up a hand, immediately putting a stop to all the activity around Sam, and the men silenced as Azazel held up his hand, his men’s guns raising with the action, only to reveal a… pigeon clutched in his fist?

Sam gradually felt his muscles start to relax, even as he raised a wry eyebrow. “A pigeon.”

Azazel opened his mouth, paused, and looked closer down at the bird. “There’s something attached to its claw.”

Barely managing to refrain himself from smacking his head at Azazel’s words, Sam frowned. “Well? What does it say?”

It took a while, and after several terse seconds of harsh poking, making Sam wince every time in sympathy for the poor bird, though it stayed quiet the entire time, Azazel finally wrenched free a tiny piece of paper rolled up like a scroll. Pulling it open with hand, Azazel stared at the paper, looking at it for so long with an almost incredulous face, that after a moment, Sam rolled his eyes and stepped forward, grabbing it out of Azazel’s hands. Azazel didn’t try stopping him, though Sam’s eyes was on the bird, which only continued to stare at him demurely, cocking its head and blinking.

Sam peered down at the note, processed it to be upside down, flipped it, and stared.

On it, written in a childish scrawl, was the words, ‘ _ Hey Lucy!’ _ He felt his eyebrows raising without his permission, but then he finally managed to kick his brain back into action, mind rebooting fast enough for Sam to let out an amused scoff. He carelessly crumpled up the paper, but he slipped it into his pocket anyway, tugging the bird out of Azazel’s hands. Cupping it in his palms, he waited for the bird to readjust itself, and hoping it got the hint - and that he was doing this right - Sam lowered his hands, and then propelled his arms upwards.

The pigeon took flight, ducking its head before gracefully extending its wings, pushing off of Sam’s palms and flew away. He kept his eyes trained on the pigeon, tracking it’s direction, until Sam could no longer see it.

Aware that Azazel was still looking at him, Sam sighed. 

“Ah, kids.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes when he turned to look at Azazel, and he knew his right hand man could see it. A second barely passed before Azazel nodded, jumping into action, and held Sam’s door open himself. Not bothering to look around, and firmly avoiding looking at the sky or the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, Sam got in, Azazel shutting the door behind him. 

As the car started to pull away from the curb, Sam slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out the paper and looking at the words. He stroked a gentle finger over the letters.

oOo

Later that week, Dean lay panting in Sam’s arms, face firmly planted in the crook between Sam’s neck and shoulder, when Sam finally gained the energy to speak.

“A pigeon, Dean? Seriously?” He exclaimed. 

Dean scoffed in his arms, breath escaping his mouth with a huff and landing against Sam’s sweaty skin. “You asked for it.” He retorted dryly, but Sam didn’t need to bend down to see the cheeky grin or the gleam in his brother’s eyes.

Sam rolled his eyes, arms tightening around his brother. “Yeah. And my men almost blew a friggin’ bird’s brains out because of your childish antics.”

“Well, it still worked, didn’t it?”  Sam wryly shook his head. For the rest of the night, they were silent, except for the breathy gasps that took place again only an hour later.

And if a week later, pigeons started to be regularly attracted to Sam Wesson, scroll-ladened with messages seemingly written by a child or not? Well, it was probably the bird seeds Sam had taken to carrying around with him.


End file.
